It's not like other jasmines. It's flowers aren't pretty, and they only open at night when you can't see them well. In daytime, it's just a green bushy type thing that I hope will one day climb a post of the pergola I want to build.

But at night - ahhh. It's scent is deeper than regular jasmine, with a hint of a spice that lingers in the brain, makes me think of far away places and peoples.

And above all it is the scent of my childhood. The star jasmine would bloom in spring; on the heels of summer would come the night-blooming jasmine. One lent scent to the day, the other would forever be entwined with night's dreams. Much of my childhood was built on those dreams.

And now I can pass it along to my children. Though they're boys, so perhaps it won't mean as much to them as it did, summer after summer, to me.

But then again, perhaps it will.